


25. Testing the Waters

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [25]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	25. Testing the Waters

_**Ryan Kwanten & Sam Worthington: Testing the waters**_  
[current]

It's been three days since Sam last talked to Ryan. When they got back from London, they'd gone their separate ways with Sam having an early business meeting the next day, but then one day had turned into two, then three, Sam needing to take some time to think things through. Deal with his own shit, despite what Ryan had said about it being theirs. But by the point he's dealt with it, he's let more time pass than he'd intended and so it's with a bit of a wince that he picks up his phone and dials Ryan.

At first, Ryan was okay with the silence. There was jet-lag to be dealt with, and he knew Sam had meetings, plus... well, it's Sam. Ryan figured he might need some space. But three days without a word, and Ryan's getting upset. What the hell were they doing, all that last month? Ryan knows damn well it wasn't anything imagined: he fell in love with Sam, totally laying himself bare for the first time in nearly five years. And he was so fucking sure that Sam was falling, too -- it was in every gesture, every touch. Every surprise Sam took care to plan for him.

But three days is a long time to go without contact, and now Ryan's chilled to the bone. He's been thrown away before. He can't stop thinking now about how Sam always held himself back, always pulled away, tensing up when Ryan would talk about his feelings. Refused to express himself in turn. Maybe Ryan _was_ just fooling himself, and he'd been nothing but convenient.

When Sam's phone number blinks on his cell phone, Ryan glares suspiciously, his thoughts a muddle. Of course, the five beers haven't helped clear his mind either. "Yeah, hello?"

"Hey. It's me. Sam," Sam supplies helpfully, making a face at himself. "How are you doing?"

"...Fine," Ryan lies after a moment of staring at his cell. "How are you?" _Where the fuck have you been?_

"Good." Sam pauses for a moment, knowing he owes Ryan an explanation or at the very least an apology. "Sorry I didn't call before," he says, rather awkwardly for him. "I had some shit to work out, but I think I'm there now, and I was hoping you might be free this afternoon."

Ryan shrugs, staring out the window at the distant ocean. He can just barely see whitecaps from his flat. "Why, are you horny this afternoon?"

Sam's eyes widen and he's left speechless for a moment. But he guesses he deserves that. "No. Look. I know I've been a shit for not calling but I want to show you something. Can I come pick you up at four?"

"Sure." Ryan squints at the digital clock by his bed. He wonders just what it is that Sam wants to show him. "I'll be here."

"Okay. Thanks." Sam smiles, hoping he hasn't waited too long and fucked everything up. "See you then."

"See you," Ryan replies, but Sam's already hung up. "Fuck," he mutters, exasperated. He rubs a hand hard over his face and tries to calm his mind. It doesn't help.

* * *

By the time the Citadel car pulls up in front of Ryan's, Sam's managed to work himself into a whole new pile of anxieties. What if he really _has_ fucked things up beyond repair? What if Ryan decides he's fucking crazy? What if he changes his mind about even seeing Sam? "I'll be right back," he tells the driver, letting himself out and forcing himself up the front stairs. He rocks on his heels for a moment, contemplating the doorbell then, glancing at his watch, finally rings it.

Stretching, Ryan finishes his sun salutations, then takes the few steps to the door. He's clean now, at least, freshly-showered and smelling of shampoo instead of beer. He swings the door wide and his heart fucking _leaps_ at the sight of Sam, which isn't fair. Not when he's got a mad on, damn it.

"Hey." Sam gives Ryan his best smile. "You look good," he says, leaning in and kissing Ryan on the cheek, unsure if anything more would be welcome.

That's weird. Ryan rubs at the spot on his cheek, glaring at Sam in confusion. "What the fuck is that? I don't even rate a real kiss anymore?"

"I thought you were pissed off at me," Sam says defensively. "I didn't want to assume anything."

"I am pissed off at you," Ryan mutters, dragging Sam in close. He tangles his fingers in Sam's hair and kisses him, unable to beat back his hunger even at a moment like this.

Fuck. Sam kisses back, tongue diving into Ryan's mouth, licking deep. He presses closer, grinding against Ryan's front, tempted for a moment to forget what he came here for. Shit. He pulls back, panting softly. "Um. We need to go," he says, nodding at the car behind him. "I made the appointment for 4:30."

"What?" Ryan reaches back and grabs his keys and wallet off the chair. "Where the hell are we going? I don't want to go anywhere," he says, already slamming the door behind himself and walking down the path to the car. "And I'm not... ready, for anything," he points out, just in case Sam thinks a quick fuck is headed his way.

"I already told you I wasn't looking for that," Sam says, opening the door for Ryan and sliding in beside him.

"Good." _Yeah, right_. Ryan's dying to climb into Sam's lap already. He finally asks the question that's been on his mind for days. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Sam glances away, looking out the window for a moment. "I was sorting my shit out," he says softly, looking down at his hands. "I know you said it was our shit but it's been mine for a really fucking long time and I - I just needed to take some time to sort it out."

Well, fuck. How can Ryan argue in the face of that? It's so incredibly rare that Sam opens up to him. "And did you?" he whispers, watching his lover's profile.

"I think so," Sam nods, looking over at Ryan. "At least enough of it to get in touch with you, make this appointment." He shrugs a little then smiles. "I think it's an ongoing process but I promise I won't disappear again like I did."

"You'd better not," Ryan grumbles, staring at his boots. "It's crappy to treat me like your boy for a month and then just... check out." He takes Sam's hand and links their fingers together.

Sam exhales softly, giving their fingers a squeeze. "I know and I'm sorry." He raises their hands to his mouth, kissing Ryan's knuckles. The car comes to a stop and he glances out the window again. "This is it," he says, letting the driver open the door and pulling Ryan out with him.

Ryan looks around, surprised to find they're standing in the middle of a Pacific coast street, houses and hills stretching away, the ocean growling nearby. Sam pulls him over to a stone wall with an inset metal door, and they pass through to a tiny yard in front of a looming beachfront house. "What's this?"

"A house." Sam grins, knowing damn well he's being a smart aleck. "If I'm going to be spending more time in L.A. and trying to be a mature adult with roots and all, I thought I should maybe look at getting some sort of home base that's not Citadel." He shrugs, pressing the doorbell. "I saw this one on the internet and set up an appointment to view it, but I wanted your opinion. I've never bought a house before and I don't even know what I'm looking for really."

Stunned, Ryan stares at him. But then the front door swings open and a distinguished-looking man in his 50's is there smiling a wide salesman's grin at them, and Ryan swallows his questions. "Hi." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, unsure whether it's safe to touch Sam in front of this man or not.

"Hello. Come in," the man says, motioning them both inside and closing the door. "I'm Dave Reynolds and you're Sam of course." He shakes Sam's hand. "I'm a huge fan."

"Thanks." Sam smiles. "This is Ryan. Ryan Kwanten." He nudges Ryan's shoulder. "Citadel referred me to Dave."

Dave shakes Ryan's hand and smiles again. "Better safe than sorry," he says, opening a leather portfolio. "I have the listing for the house." Handing it over to Sam. "You'll see they're asking four-point-four-five but there's definitely some movement in this market."

Ryan's eyes bulge when Dave names the price, but he's pretty sure Sam doesn't even blink. He forgets all about it in a second, though, staring up at the exposed wooden beams of the high ceilings, the wide sun-washed living room. The windows that frame an unencumbered view of the ocean. A private staircase leads from the deck beyond down to the beach. "Oh my god, this place is beautiful," he murmurs, touching his fingers to the glass.

"Yeah, it's even better than the pictures," Sam agrees, which is really saying something.

Dave nods. "It shows really well. Those windows all have UV protection so you can enjoy the view even on the hottest day, and the decks are all new - ironwood."

He shows them the kitchen next. "Stainless steel appliances, everything stays, including the island."

Sam grins at Ryan. "What do you think?"

"I want to see the deck." Ryan points, eager to get outside and smell the sea air. It's exciting to think that Sam's actually considering spending more time in Los Angeles, enough to buy a house, god. But that Sam might want to be in a place like this, instead of something ritzier up in the hills -- even better.

"You're already sold just based on the beach, aren't you?" Sam teases, but they go outside, checking out the large deck, huge enough for a whole party, and the private stairs down to the sand and the water.

"Do you know how hard it is to find parking near the beach out here?" Ryan answers, a grin twisting his mouth. "This is amazing." And there are three huge decks, not even just the one. Dave points out that there is a spa by the master suite, as well as a personal sauna off the guest suite, and Ryan lets himself be persuaded back inside. The loft construction is gorgeous to him, open and airy, and he clutches at Sam's hand as they head up the stairs.

There are three bedrooms in total, all of them a good size, though the master suite, it's really something else. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the ocean. Sliding doors to a private deck. A huge walk-in closet leading to the ensuite with its equally huge tiled shower and double sinks. Sam lets out a low whistle. "When was the house built again?" he asks Dave, trying not to seem like he's already sold on it.

"1924 but everything is newly redone. You wouldn't have any major repairs to do for a good ten, fifteen years," Dave assures them.

"Wow. This is a house with history," Ryan murmurs, thinking back to what Malibu must have been like in the Roaring Twenties. Silver screen glamour. Prohibition and speakeasies. Sparkling Hollywood parties. Ignoring Dave, Ryan steps up behind Sam and slips his arms around him, chin resting on his shoulder. "You really want my opinion?"

"Yeah." Sam nods, touching his hand to Ryan's. "I do."

"I think it's perfect. Gorgeous. Amazing." Ryan smiles and breathes in the scent of Sam's hair. "Plus, it's only twenty-five minutes from _my_ place."

Sam grins. "Dave? Can you give us a few minutes? I'd like to take another look at the downstairs and talk this over some more with Ryan."

Dave nods. "Of course. I'll wait for you out front. I have some phone calls to make so take your time," he says, already on his way out and back downstairs.

"I want to take another look at the living room," Sam says, turning in Ryan's arms and giving him a kiss. "I really like this place but I'm not sure about furniture placement."

Ryan laughs, and points out the obvious: "You don't have any furniture. I don't think it should be too much of a worry," he teases, kissing Sam again, sliding hands over his body.

"Humour me," Sam says with a laugh, grabbing Ryan's hand and pulling him back downstairs. "See, what I can't figure out is whether it would fit or not."

"This living room is huge," Ryan says, standing with his arms spread wide and looking around at the potentiality of space. "What is it you're worried might not fit?"

Shit. Sam swallows hard, his throat suddenly so fucking dry he's not even sure he'll be able to get the words out. "Your piano," he says, waiting with bated breath for Ryan's reaction. Unsure if he'll freak out, call him crazy...

"My piano would be perfect right over here in front of this bay of windows," Ryan answers, images filling the air before him. "It-- wait, what?" He looks over his shoulder at Sam, his heart pounding. "You don't play piano."

"I know, but you do," Sam says softly, watching Ryan closely. "And I can't imagine living here without you."

Ryan turns slowly to face Sam, his eyes wide. "You--" he breaks off and licks his lips. "You're asking me to move in with you?"

Sam nods. "Yeah, I am. Please?" Giving Ryan a hopeful smile.

It takes the space of a few startled heartbeats for the message to truly sink in. Then Ryan jumps Sam, wrapping his legs around Sam's waist and overbalancing him. Bringing them both down to the floor. "Yes," he whispers, ecstatic. "Yes, yes, yes."

Sam laughs, lifting his head to kiss Ryan hard on the mouth. "Is that a yes?"

"No, I have to think about it," Ryan teases, and kisses Sam again. He's still in a state of disbelief, but he's not going to let a little thing like that stand in the way of sheer happiness. He rolls to his back, pulling Sam on top of him. "When can we move in?"

"I don't know. We'd have to get Dave back in here and find out."

"Eh, Dave's busy," Ryan shrugs. He slides his hands down to cup Sam's ass and yank him in tighter, lifting his hips to meet him. "He might be busy for a while..."

"I thought you weren't ready," Sam says, eyes sparkling, refusing to move with Ryan.

"Yes, but it's _make-up sex_ ," Ryan insists, feigning exasperation. "This is a really important part of any relationship, and you're in one now. It's official." _Deal with it_.

"Okay." Sam grins. "Well, in that case..." He drops his head again, mouth almost bruisingly hard on Ryan's as he grinds against him, groaning into the kiss.

God, that's good. Ryan slides his hands restlessly over Sam's body, needing to touch. Relief and happiness bubbling up in him and leaving him as breathless as the kiss.

"I don't suppose you're prepped?" Sam murmurs, kissing his way down Ryan's throat.

"No." Ryan nips at Sam's bottom lip. "Do you want my mouth?"

Sam grins. "Damn right I do." He rolls them over again, hands on Ryan's shoulders, already pushing him down. Hopefully Dave won't come in but if he does, Sam could care less if he watches. Thank god for Citadel.

Grinning, Ryan sits up to undo Sam's belt buckle. He yanks Sam's jeans down to his knees and then dives in, sucking the head of his cock into his mouth. It's a flavour Ryan had feared he wouldn't taste again.

"Oh fuck," Sam gasps, shoving his hands into his lover's hair, his cock throbbing hard in the wet heat of Ryan's mouth.

Ryan groans and takes Sam deeper. God, he loves this, loves it when Sam touches him this way -- when he sounds like he might lose control. He begins bobbing his head, sucking hard.

Sam curses again. Head tilted back, he pulls on Ryan's hair, fucking his cock deeper into his mouth, his body tensing quickly, hips stuttering as the slight graze of teeth sends him over.

Pulling against Sam's grip just enough to feel it, Ryan swallows. He moans, his own cock hard as a spike behind his zipper, and licks Sam clean with care.

Sam opens his eyes and tilts his head to look down at Ryan. "I missed you," he whispers. "And not just ‘cause of this."

Slowly Ryan crawls back up Sam's body to kiss him, tongue delving deep. ''Missed you too," he whispers. ''I thought I'd lost you.''

"No." Sam shakes his head. "I just had to get my mind wrapped around all of this." He kisses Ryan again, softer this time. "I wanted to do right by you."

Emotion so intense it hurts spears through Ryan. "I love you," he whispers, bracing on his elbows so he can meet Sam's eyes. "You don't have to say anything back. But I need you to get used to hearing that from me. Because I need to say it sometimes."

"I know," Sam says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "And I - I've never felt like this about anyone else." Unable to get there, to say those same words, just yet. Unsure how to label what he's feeling.

Ryan nods, and smiles faintly with wonder. "That's good enough for me."


End file.
